A/N: Well I'm overwhelmed by the reaction to the first chapter. So many wonderful comments I'm a little nervous in adding another one in case I take people in a direction they won't be happy with. But onward I go in any case. There will certainly be another chapter after this one, perhaps even two. Brace yourself for this one though, it's pretty intense...

Chapter 2 – Feuding & Family

As soon as she heard blatant amusement in his tone, his flippancy an act to convince her that he wasn't someone who looked like they should be committed to a rehab centre her hackles rose again. No apology. Not even a sheepish look. She'd just spent nine hours in a car sweating her ass off to get here and he treated her like he'd just talked to her yesterday and not six months prior. She chastised herself that she thought it's be any different.

"You're hilarious," she glared, brushing past him into the room.

"Well please come in, why don't you?" he immediately replied, rolling his eyes.

He closed the door behind her as she deposited her belongings to the small table beside the window before facing him again.

She looked him up and down, casting a more speculative eye over his appearance. He reminded her of the broken man she'd met years ago. But worse. At least then he had tried to cover up that fact, to put on the facade of a man who was holding himself together, even if it was only barely. Back then it was easier to act indifferent towards him, to be sympathetic to his loss but be reserved, and that his dishevelled outward appearance was nothing more than irksome to her although inwardly she had hoped that cleaning up would lead him into gathering himself together better mentally too. She had been gratified even back then that he'd done just that because, in part, she'd asked him to.

But in the years following she'd witnessed him grow into more than someone comprised of pure grief and vengeance. She saw him make friends begrudgingly with her and the rest of the team, to integrate into their dynamic as much as he allowed himself, to become part of their family. He still kept himself off to the side slightly a lot of the time but he'd changed and let himself be happy on occasions, to blatantly enjoy the work they did together. She also admired how he could still see world in a child like way sometimes despite how he'd suffered and how he'd instilled more humour into the team than people investigating murders should rightfully have. While she hadn't missed the paperwork he surrounded her with, she missed that feeling of camaraderie he'd instilled without perhaps even meaning to.

Now as she studied him she saw that man far removed from the person standing opposite her. For the first time in her life she pitied him, to see what he had allowed himself become. He was reading her too and she noticed his posture get defensive when he surely noticed the sympathy reflected in her eyes.

Before she spoke he did, his voice even. "You shouldn't have come here, Lisbon."

She ignored the remark and came back with what had been running around her head since she'd heard about his arrest, his nonchalant tone infuriating her once again. "What the hell, Jane? Assault, fraud, resisting arrest?" She raised her voice even more. "Narcotics for god's sake! What the hell were you thinking?!"

He shrugged. "Calm down, will you? It's fine. I'm handling it."

She pulled her head back and widened her eyes. "Really?! How the hell do you figure that?! These are charges that will send you to prison, you jerk!"

He rolled his eyes as his headache returned with a vengeance. He'd almost forgotten how loud she could be. "Jesus, woman. Can you lower your voice?!" he snapped.

He went to the dresser and grabbed a miniature of gin. "Jesus," he exhaled, clearly exasperated, the pain in his head like a man pounding on it with a jackhammer.

As he went to open the bottle Lisbon rounded on him. "Now what are you doing?"

"What does it look like?"

"Jane, it's three in the afternoon." Her tone was quieter now, more concerned than angry.

He chuckled, taking off the bottle top. "And your point is?" He lifted the bottle to his lips.

"Don't," she pleaded.

Before he took a sip he spat back, "Can you blame me? You'd make any man turn to drink."

Just before he spilled the liquid into his mouth out of the corner of his eye he saw her flinch at his words and physically back away from him. He paused, frowned, his foggy brain trying to figure out the relevance of her sudden reticence. Then he realised just what he'd said and the implication behind the words that he'd uttered without thinking. You cruel bastard. As much as he was trying his best to get her to leave by annoying her he couldn't hurt her like that.

He couldn't let her see him as that.

As him.

He slowly put the top back on the bottle and placed it on the dresser. He held the palms of his hands up to her in a placating gesture but didn't walk towards her and instead allowed her to decide the distance placed between them. Tears pricked at her eyes, rebelliousness in her expression but she shielded her body with her arms crossed in front of her as it shook slightly. She suddenly appeared young and fragile and he'd never witnessed her seem so vulnerable. His words and actions had transported her back to teenage days and it was clear part of her was afraid of what his next reaction or words would be. Just like she had been of her father.

His voice was soft now. "I'm sorry, Lisbon. I...I didn't mean that. I really didn't. I wasn't thinking." His tone was sincere and he wanted nothing more than to go and wrap his arms around her. Like he should have done when she first appeared at his door. Like his instincts told him to when he'd opened it.

She nodded mutely, taking in a breath, centring herself again. She quickly wiped her eyes with her fingers. "It's okay," she said quietly, sniffing slightly. "I know you didn't. It was just for a minute there you..."

"Reminded you of your father," he finished for her.

She shrugged and averted her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, taking a step closer.

She nodded again. "I know you are."

But there was something in her eyes that told him her father had said that many times too when he'd had too much to drink and she was fighting against believing him. Words were cheap was the message she'd inadvertently delivered.

"It is good to see you," he said gently, trying to move them off the road they were travelling. "You've lost some weight, hair's a little longer." He attempted a joke. "Living off coffee and bear claws again, eh?" He smiled genuinely at her for the first time since she'd arrived.

Her lips upturned slightly but the smile back never made it to her eyes. "And what are you living off? Apart from a bottle of scotch a day. You look like crap."

He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not an alcoholic, Lisbon, despite the impression you may have that I am."

"Really? My father used to say the same thing," she said boldly.

His frustration was growing but he kept a lid on it and remained calm. He took another step closer so he was facing her. For the first time since she'd arrived he stared into her eyes, trying to let her see the sincerity behind them. "I promise you I'm not," he said evenly.

She blinked rapidly before she sighed, recognising he was telling her the truth. "I believe you."

He exhaled. "Good. I'm glad that we-"

"I hadn't finished. I believe you. That you believe that's the truth. And perhaps you're not just yet. But you're getting there, Jane, that's for damn sure."

He opened his mouth to refute her words but as he reflected on his drinking, imbibing amply even when outside of Red John's watch it was hard not to see her argument. "You may have a point," he conceded. "I have been overdoing it. I'll stop overdoing it, okay?"

"Just like that?" she countered.

"Just like that," he confirmed.

Her shoulders sagged. "All right then. See that you do."

He smiled again at her. "Look, I appreciate you coming all this way to see me, to bail me out but...I'm really doing okay, Lisbon. You should go home. I'll make sure to pay you back the money."

"Are you kidding me? How can you possibly say you're doing okay? You're a mess, Jane. I'm not going back to Sacramento without you."

He thought about telling her he faked his breakdown but until Lorelei had actually confirmed she worked for Red John and he found out what her message from him was then there was nothing Lisbon could do to help him. Also, if he told her then she'd insist on staying with him even more, most probably. She was better far away from Vegas before Red John or one of his minions realised she was there (if he hadn't already) and decided to take matters into his own hands and remove her from the equation forcefully. Jane baulked inwardly at the vision of a smiley face painted over a bed in Lisbon's blood, her body gutted beneath it. It wasn't the first time that dreadful image had occupied his thoughts.

Wearily he sat down on the end of the bed and took a deep breath. "I don't want to have another argument with you, Lisbon. Please just go home."

"How can I do that when I see you like this, Jane? I just want to help. Just let me."

He closed his eyes briefly, knowing a change of tack was necessary, self loathing rising up in him at the thought of what he was about to do next. Whatever it takes.

He looked up at her with deliberately cold eyes. His tone turned glacial. "If I wanted your help I would have answered your many calls or texts. The fact I didn't should have told you everything you needed to know. Stop trying to save me, Lisbon. Stop treating me like the child or husband you lack. Now get the hell out of here and let me go back to the life I've chosen. I neither require your approval nor your pity or judgement over how I live the rest of it."

She blinked rapidly, shocked by the vitriol out of his mouth. He was deliberately hurting her, pushing her away. But she wasn't ready to give up on him yet. "You're my friend, Jane. I don't give up on my friends. We're family-"

"Will you stop that nonsense?" he scoffed. "You already have a family, Lisbon. They live in Chicago and you hardly ever visit them because you feel guilty about running out on them years ago. Stop trying to engineer a fake family at the CBI to suppress your guilt over doing that."

She gritted her teeth, his words stinging her to the core. "Stop deflecting me with insults. I'm not going anywhere until we've had a frank discussion over what the hell is going on with you."

He laughed in her face. "Go home, Lisbon. Go back to your 'family' in Sacramento."

If his tone hadn't been so mocking she would have chewed him out about his use of air quotes. Obstinately she stood her ground. "No. And whether you like it or want to admit it we are family, you jackass. Means we can row and say hurtful things and get over them."

"We are not family!" he shouted, standing back up suddenly and bearing down on her. "I lost mine, remember!"

He breathed heavily, trying to stop himself breaking down entirely. It was only at this moment he realised how much he was hanging onto his true identity by just a thread, that the con wasn't swallowing it and taking over his entire entity. He could feel himself drifting back to the dark place that left him in a mental hospital through the strain of it.

Instead of pulling back from him at his outburst Lisbon took a step closer. She almost seemed relieved that he'd let his true feelings show. She took his hand that was shaking at his side and guided him back to the bed. "Sit," she ordered quietly.

He acquiesced silently and stared at her, her hand still in his. She smiled softly at him, neither judging him nor showing pity for him, just a fraction of concern in her eyes. She rubbed her thumb across his knuckles, soothing him further as he lost himself in her eyes. So long since he had last seen them and he'd never gazed into them for so long. He memorised every detail about them, every inflection of colour. He noticed a freckle he never had before on her right eyelid as she blinked. Everything seemed to move from lightning fast fury into slow motion as she kept stroking his hand caringly.

"Better?" she asked after some time. Her voice was gentle but steady, neither soft nor harsh.

He nodded, still soundless but gaining strength from her intonation and the lightness of her touch. With every pass of her thumb he felt himself swim back a little more from the brink of oblivion.

In the same gentle tone she added, "Good. Now, go and have a shower and change those clothes. You smell like a brewery and an ashtray rolled into one. Then we'll talk. Properly. I've known you long enough to know there's more to this now than you having a breakdown."

He closed his eyes and nodded, too exhausted to do anything else than admit defeat. "Okay," he sighed.